


Home Sweet Home

by Elleh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daichi pinning so bad it's almost shameful, Fluff overdose, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleh/pseuds/Elleh
Summary: Daichi's in love with his flatmate but he can't grow enough courage to do something about it.





	Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noahczerns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahczerns/gifts).



> This is my Haikyuu Secret Santa's gift for [Becca](http://sugakoush.tumblr.com/)! I hope you like it <3

The problem was the smell.

Of course there were other factors that had brought Daichi to this point in life, in which he wasn’t sure why he was gritting his teeth to the point of splinter. But when he lay on his bed with a frown and a heavy hollowness on his chest, the only thing that stood out was the damn smell.

The other things didn’t stood out as much, because the pile of reasons Daichi felt as heavy as he felt light weren’t as tangible. They weren’t around _all_ the time, they were just pieces here and there: Suga wearing an awful arpon his mom gave him on Christmas and smirking at Daichi with a spoon at hand. Daichi trying to fight for his right to hold the TV’s control and winning, although Suga chose what they were watching, because Daichi was weak. The waves of companionship when Daichi got back from work, exhausted and tired and somehow lonely, and Suga being there on his computer. Like a candle in the middle of a storm, a lighthouse bringing Daichi back home.

Those made of Daichi’s chest a weird, confused mess of giggles and clenched lungs that gave him problems to breathe more times than not, but only when he was actively thinking of them. Daichi could close his eyes and breathe deeply and the memories of his hard, choking crush would dissolve for a little bit.

That is, if it weren’t for the _damn smell_. That soft lemon scent Suga had bought when they moved in, the mix of flowery soap they washed their clothes with, the small and yet unique tint of fresh air and leather Daichi had discovered belonged to Suga himself. It was like a film surrounding the oxygen of the apartment, and no matter where Daichi sat or lay or step on, it was always _there_.

Daichi’d started to call that smell _home_ , and every time the thought crossed his mind he’d freeze mid step, suddenly hit by the realisation of his own overwhelming emotions.

Gods, he had it hard. Hard enough to blush when Suga came out of the shower, the mist of the hot water smelling of his shampoo and his clean body and it wasn’t even about Suga being naked under that towel every dang time, no. It was about Daichi stopping suddenly and willingly, watching blankly into nothingness, letting the breeze fill every particle of their apartment with Suga’s essence. As if Suga weren’t already everywhere.

It seemed impossible for a crush, —an infatuation, a yearning so huge Daichi couldn’t even put a name to it,— to last this long, and yet, here they were. Almost three years of housemates and Daichi’s feelings didn’t look like they’d cool off anytime soon.

“Daichi, I got us dinner.” Daichi had to blink thrice to the entrance, where Suga was fighting against his rain boots with his tongue between his lips. “It’s sushi.”

“Are we celebrating?” Daichi had to clear his throat, the tight knot of unexpressed want as choking as it was welcome. At least the distraction would keep him from staring way too long.

Suga smiled. Daichi’s heart did a backflip, a tango step and then fell on the ground with dramatic exaggeration. Still pretending to be dead it beat like a horse raising free through an infinite field, and it wasn’t until Suga got into the kitchen and started unpacking their dinner that it calmed enough for Daichi to go help him.

“So?”

“Not really _celebrating_.” Suga smirked up at him and Daichi smiled back, because one didn’t just watched Suga with that expression without answering it somehow. The urge to lean forward and kiss that smile was like silk on Daichi’s mouth. Suga’s eyes flickered with something, and Daichi teared his gaze away, suddenly shy. “I had a really nice day at work. Thought we could enjoy a fancy, —don’t look at me like that, it’s cheap—, shared dinner so the day finishes as good as it’s gone.”

“I’m glad you had a nice day.” Daichi beamed, chest and cheeks filled with warmth and joy. Hearing Suga’d had a good day brightened his, and Daichi fell another step into the deep pit of unrequited love. “You were able to pass that project you were working on?”

Suga’s smile could light up Japan on its whole.

“Yes! My new partner and I made it through this morning, and it was great! I’m really excited about it. The next months are gonna be pretty insane, so…” Suga shrugged, the soft line of his shoulders raising gracefully. Daichi wanted to reach for his neck and inhale the smell that had branded his mind and his soul, but instead he let his smile turn into something tenderer and softer. Suga’s own smile changed in sync, matching Daichi’s. “I thought we could have a good dinner together, ‘cause I don’t know when we’ll be able to do this again.”

Those words strung something in Daichi. It was filthy and heavy and it tasted fool, and it probably showed on his tugged lips because Suga send his way an apologetic smile in return. “Yeah, sorry. I promise it’s only for a little while.”

“It’s totally okay.” Daichi patted his arm, trying to break the odd tension on his shoulder, but only making it worse. Suga arched an eyebrow, aware of the awkwardness of Daichi’s actions, and Daichi found himself laughing shallowly. “I’m serious. It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise to me.”

“But it’s our rule,” Suga pointed out slowly, as if testing Daichi. Daichi didn’t want to react to him, but his shoulders stiffened at the choice of words. “I like having dinner with you every night.”

“Oh, come on, Suga. Don’t be dramatic.” Trying to run away from Suga’s sharp gaze, Daichi turned around and took the sushi containers. “It’s not gonna be that long, and anyway, you’re entitled to have your life. Why would I complain?”

Yeah, Daichi, why would you.

 

*

 

Daichi wanted to complain.

But he didn’t.

Daichi wanted to crawl into Suga’s bed every night and wait for him and snuggle against his body and then fall asleep knowing at least they had that.

But he didn’t.

What he did was cook. What he did was prepare Suga bentos and buy him coffee and energy drinks he left around with post-its.

_I hope you have a good day._

_Don’t forget to eat._

_Take care today and take an umbrella; it’s gonna rain._

_I washed your clothes._

_Be safe going back home tonight; and eat!_

Daichi never wrote, _I miss you_ , but he felt it was unnecessary. If Suga hadn’t realised through Daichi’s dumb post-its and his stupid caring tips, then it was pointless to tell him anyway.

 

*

 

Daichi held it together the first three weeks, because he was an adult and he had _restrain_ and because his mind understood what his heart failed to see: Suga was, under no circumstances, forced to humour Daichi by sharing the small free time he had with him, if he even had free time at all. Daichi’s brain got the memo.

His heart didn’t.

At the end of the first month Daichi was so desperate for a bit of Suga he actually started delaying his own sleep, on the hopes he’d catch Suga when he got home back from work, each day later than the day before. The fact he could barely stay awake past twelve was bad, but it was even worse to wake up every morning with a blanket that smelled like Suga and with no trace of Suga on their damn apartment.

Daichi was going insane. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have work, because he did. But Daichi’s workday ended at six, leaving him with a ton of hours he had to fill _out_ of his own apartment because, damn his sharp nose, he couldn’t spend more time in a house where Suga was so present in his absence.

That’s when the complaints started.

“It’s just—” Daichi frowned down at his beer, Kuroo and Bokuto both watching him in silent attention. “He’s never there anymore.”

“Well,” Kuroo chewed softly, as if Daichi would break if he spoke a bit louder. “You guys aren’t together. You can’t actually ask him to stay more.”

“That’s not what I want and of course I won’t say a thing.”

“Or you could,” Bokuto hummed as if his own thoughts were now just falling into his hands and he were seeing them for the first time. “I mean, you could tell him how you feel.”

Daichi blushed. He blushed so hard he actually saw the skin on the back of his hands get shamefully red. Kuroo chuckled, obviously delighted by Daichi’s unspoken crush. Bokuto just smiled kindly at him.

“I won’t.”

“You could tell him as a _friend_. I tell Kuroo all the time when I wanna hang out more.”

“You _always_ tell me you wanna hang out more,” Kuroo retorted with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s because you never wanna hang out.”

Daichi’s stomach lightened at their quivering, known and safe land he was happy to step on. He was ashamed of his own complaints, of his own emotions. The project Suga was working on had been the most important of his career so far, and Daichi resented himself for not being able to show him the support he deserved. The support Daichi was eager to give him, but too petty to actually express.

“Anyway,” Kuroo hit Bokuto’s arm, who gaped at him, offended. “You okay?”

“It just sucks,” Daichi mustered, because as much as he hated feeling like this, he hated even more to swallow his own emotions. He wanted to smile and play it off, and he did, the small times he crossed words with Suga. But in Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s company he couldn’t bring himself to lie. He didn’t _want_ to. “It sucks even more because I’m not able to tell him how I feel. And I never will.”

“Well, Drama Queen, chill.” Kuroo pushed the beer into Daichi’s hands. “Just get over these months and we will talk again about you confessing your beautiful, teen-ish crush when Suga’s back into a normal, living human’s schedule.”

 

*

 

Some weeks later, Daichi got home past twelve. Kuroo had gotten tickets for a techno concert, and although it wasn’t really Daichi’s sort of music, it had been nice to go out and get wasted and dance and sweat his desperation out.

For a little while Daichi’d been able to actually forget his heart was numb and pinning.

The lights told Daichi something was wrong as soon as he stepped inside, Suga’s working shoes thrown on the side of the entrance step.

“Suga?”

Daichi rushed through the corridor till the couch, where Suga was lying pale and shivery. Even from the distance Daichi could see sweat covering his silky skin, and he didn’t need to put his hand on Suga’s forehead to know he had a fever.

He did anyway.

“Daichi?”

“Hey,” Daichi said softly, going on his knees beside Suga. “What happened? Did you take something?”

“I’m just tired.” Suga tried to smile, but his chipped lips couldn’t shape it properly. “I’ve been working a bit too much, I think.”

“You think.” Daichi could hear the sharp edge of his voice. He didn’t want to be mad. He wasn’t even mad at Suga, but worry had its claws on his throat and his lungs, and Daichi couldn’t think properly. “You are barely home, you barely eat and you barely sleep. You always get here late and wake up earlier than me. And I go for a run every morning at six thirty.”

Suga blinked at him, his glassy eyes unfocused and feverish and Daichi felt like a dickhead, admonishing a sick person. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s ‘kay.” Suga did smile this time, soft and a bit shaky, but a smile nonetheless. Daichi’s breath caught on his lungs and he had to use iron restrain to stop himself from kissing him. “It’s nice to see you so worried you actually get mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I know.”

Daichi sighed loudly and, thoughtless, caressed Suga’s cheek. He pretended he was washing the sweat there, checking his temperature, but he was sure the way his eyes avoided Suga’s hazy ones was telling enough. “I’m gonna go to the conbini to buy you some medicine.”

“Don’t leave me yet.”

What a low hit. Daichi huffed soundly, pissed at his own weakness, and Suga snuggled onto the pillow, pushing his face closer to Daichi’s. “Thanks for all the food and things you’ve done.”

“You’re welcome.” Daichi fell on his side and let his temple rest near Suga’s hands. Suga watched down at him, that peaceful smile still playing on his lips. “You really should take something for that fever. And drink water.”

“I did drink.” Suga inhaled deeply, and Daichi had the impression he was inhaling _him._  Daichi couldn’t help himself when he rose his hand and caressed the skin of Suga’s jaw. “I think I just need to sleep. Your hand feels nice.”

Daichi ignored that last bit.

“You should take tomorrow off. I don’t even remember the last time you had a day off.”

Suga made a noncommittal sound and closed his eyes, sighing a deep, happy breath. It gave Daichi the impression of a baby cat, content and safe, finally able to fall asleep on its bed. Daichi’s mind was a mess of wants and words that burnt his tongue, and because he had missed Suga and his unmistakable scent, he let his hand take the wet locks of hair away from his forehead.

“Daichi,” Suga whispered softly, already asleep. Daichi smiled at him and caressed his warm skin again and before he did something really stupid, he stood up and went to the conbini.

He knew Suga wouldn’t do the sensible thing and stay home the next day, so he bought him some lemon drinks and more medicine than necessary and put it all in the table.

The post-it read, _Take this and take care and don’t you dare faint or die. I made you food, so try to survive until you can go back to a normal person’s existence. Daichi._

There was a thick, scratched black mark right before Daichi signed with his name. It was unreadable, but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what word was hidden underneath.

 

*

 

Suga went back to a normal human’s schedule three months later with a smile as big as the sun, too many kilos thinner and his hair longer.

He also brought a boyfriend with him.

Daichi would have given his life and his soul to go back to those agonizing months when at least he could pretend there was hope at the end of the tunnel.

 

*

 

Daichi’s mood was awful and tiring and it had gotten so bad he couldn’t even stand himself. Mornings were the worst, because Daichi woke up with a knot on his stomach and vile on his throat, a wordless fear perfectly painted on the image of Suga and his damn boyfriend playing lovebirds in his kitchen.

It’s not as if that had ever happened. At least not in real life, anyway. But Daichi’s subconscious was, surprisingly, creative and thorough, and it had provided Daichi with a long list of nightmares he didn’t even want to consider. And they all had the same setting: Daichi, hopeful, crashing on Suga and his unknown lover being so obviously caring for each other it felt like a stab on his chest.

Since Suga announced a week after he’d gone back to a regular work schedule he had a boyfriend, and after the first night of nightmares, Daichi now stepped out of his room as if he were walking on mined land.

The muffled sound of the TV welcomed him when he made his way to the kitchen, the morning news throwing light into the living room. He could hear Suga hum a song while he prepared breakfast, his bare back as alluring as it was appalling. Daichi didn’t want to see the small marks of his freckles all over his skin, constellations he could see but wasn’t allowed to discover.

He felt like a man staring at the sky with no hope of ever reaching it.

“Daichi!” Suga beamed at him, the red mark of his pillow still on his cheek. “Good morning. You’re up late today.”

Daichi shrugged, not sure how words worked now that he was blinded by Suga and his perfect skin and his oh so missed company. “I went out with Kuroo after work.”

“Oh, right.” Suga turned around again, the light tone of his voice as carefree as it was fake. Daichi didn’t give it a second thought and stepped forward to reach for his mug right in time for Suga to lean back, as if he were about to talk to Daichi.

They stilled for a second too long, Daichi’s raised arm caging Suga in his chest. Daichi could feel Suga’s heat coming through his shirt, speeding up his already malfunctioning heart. Suga’s smell invaded his nostrils and his mouth, and Daichi licked his lips as if Suga’s presence were caressing them.

“Ah, sorry,” Daichi mustered, hoarse, and stepped sideways as Suga made a strangled sound and stepped forward, his hips crashing against the counter. Daichi couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He filled his mug with more coffee than he needed and made his way into the living room, where he felt safe and alone and he could pretend his heart wasn’t racing to death.

He wasn’t sure if the distance made it easier or harder to breathe, but at least Daichi’s eyes weren’t glued to a pale, naked back and a neck he had dreamed of more times than he should.

“Daichi,” Suga called him after a minute, his own mug in hand. There was an underlying tension on his frown when Daichi looked back at him. “Is it okay if my boyfriend comes today?”

The coffee turned into acid in Daichi’s stomach. The word _boyfriend_ always sounded full of intent and meaning when Suga said it, but now it was a direct blow to his jaw. Daichi wanted to throw up, but instead he put a tight smile on his lips and nodded, slowly falling apart. “Of course. This is your home too.”

Daichi didn’t sleep in his bed that night, but that didn’t keep him from imagining Suga sleeping in his.

The nightmares were the worst when they came that evening, and Daichi swore he could feel his soul tear apart, shattered at the sight of Suga with someone else.

 

*

 

“You’re whimpering.”

“And it’s annoying.”

Daichi wanted to tell them _they_ were annoying, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mean and lie. He had spent every weekend for a month in Kuroo’s house, taking over his couch and whining about his life. Daichi felt awful at how low he’d fallen. He could even feel his shoulders bend forward, as if they were unable to carry him anymore.

“I know,” Daichi agreed with gritted teeth. “I can’t help it.”

“Just leave that apartment, for god’s sake.” Kuroo threw him a bag of chips and Daichi was too miserable to catch it on time. It hit his face with a loud thud, and Bokuto laughed until he choked. “You’re practically living here anyway. You can stay in my couch until you find a new place, if that’s what you need.”

“Or you could just go and whimper at Suga,” Bokuto added, taking the chips out of Daichi’s hands.

“That’s stupid and unhelpful.”

“I’m serious.” Kuroo sat on the floor, dismissing Bokuto’s complain when he snatched the chips from him. “You need to decide what you do. Or you die pinning over Suga, or you move forward.”

It sounded so easy. Daichi felt it _was_ easy, in the simple put way of Kuroo’s words. Just step out of that apartment and find happiness again. But it was impossible to even fathom happiness in a world where Suga wasn’t in his life. It was the smell, and the late nights, and how Suga made fun of Daichi when they watched scary movies and then Daichi could barely sleep for a week. It was the shared food and the shared laughs and the fact Daichi couldn’t recall a safer place than being with Suga. After almost three years, Daichi’s heart and Daichi’s life had shaped around Suga’s existence, and just thinking about building a new one where he wasn’t there felt choking and wrong.

“So you’d rather die pinning,” Bokuto said, reading his thoughts.

Daichi didn’t have strength to deny it. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I think ‘s actually pretty simple.” Bokuto kicked Kuroo and grabbed the chips back. “Nothing will change if you stay silent.”

“I don’t want things to change. That’s precisely the problem here.” Daichi frowned at Bokuto, the shadowed gaze of his sharp eyes cutting and scary. Daichi hated when Bokuto looked at him like that, as if he could see the world in a light Daichi would never be able to understand.

“I think Suga is in love with you,” Bokuto added, and Daichi’s world stopped suddenly on its tracks.

It was nice and light and for a second Daichi breathed with such freedom it was terrifying.

“Yeah, of course, that’s why he has a boyfriend now.” Daichi could hear the venom on his voice.

Bokuto rolled his eyes. “Imagine this. You’ve been living together for three years, and you’re sort of into each other. But you never do anything, or give the impression you actually want things to move forward because, duh, you just said yourself you don’t want things to change.” Daichi felt his chest constrict. Bokuto’s words were sharp but caring, and maybe because of that they hurt the most. “So the guy maybe has a thing for you, but you won’t act on it, you won’t even _think_ of it, so he moves forward. Because life doesn’t stop just ‘cause you’re in love.”

“Bo…” Kuroo murmured, resting his feet on Bokuto’s shin. “That’s so deep and helpful.”

“I’m a master of love.”

“And yet forever single,” Kuroo continued, and Bokuto grew crimson. He turned around and kicked Kuroo again, coaxing a loud yelp out of him.

“Shut up! I was trying to make a point here.” Bokuto threw a pillow at Kuroo just to let him know what a dickhead he was, and turned his attention back to Daichi, who felt shaken and cold. “It’s okay if you want to live your life without stepping forward, but you can’t expect him to stay content with that.”

“I want to step forward,” Daichi answered, his voice trembling and his face as pale as he felt sick. “I want him.”

“But do you want to be _with_ him?”

The question lingered. When Daichi tried to answer, he choked on it.

“That only works _if_ Suga’s in love with me,” Daichi managed to spit out. “If he isn’t, then me saying something will only break what we have now.”

“If you say nothing, you’ll never know.”

“Suga’s not in love with me.”

But from that point on, Daichi couldn’t stop thinking about it.

 

*

 

He thought about it at breakfast, at lunch, at dinner. He thought about it when he was on the shower, when _Suga_ was on the shower. He thought about it when he came back home and found Suga on the couch, glasses down his nose, on the edge of the sit and about to fall, because he was too into the book he was reading.

Since Bokuto’s mouth had put it into words, the possibility that Suga might have feelings for him never left Daichi. It was like a lullaby played at the back of his head, and the more he thought about it and the more he tried to think of other stuff, the louder it got.

“Daichi,” Suga said one friday, already on his pajamas when Daichi got home. He looked soft and safe and welcoming and Daichi almost fell to his knees. Instead, he smiled, because he didn’t know how to show his feelings otherwise. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I know it’s Friday, but—”

“Isn’t… What about your boyfriend? I thought—”

“Oh.” Suga teared his gaze away, a soft blush on his cheeks. Daichi blinked, expression blank. What a sight, and what a hit. “He has plans with his— _mom_ ,” Suga seemed amused by that fact, but Daichi didn’t give it more thought.

“It’s been awhile since we watched a movie,” Daichi said with a nod.

“I bought popcorn.”

Daichi light up at the sound of that. He went to his room and got changed, putting on the sweatpants he had discarded that morning without a thought on the bed. Loose and comfortable, Daichi caressed the soft fabric and frowned. They smelled like the soap they used, but somehow they also had attached Suga’s scent, the one Daichi would recognize anywhere.

Daichi stared at his hands on the sweatpants’ pockets, his nose almost brushing the fabric there. He needed a second to register his own actions, the fact he had just buried his nose on his leg because he could smell Suga in him.

He was losing his mind.

“Daichi! Are you ready?”

“Coming!”

Embarrassed, Daichi rushed to the living room, Suga already sat on the couch, ready and excited. He had his legs under him, a bowl of popcorns at hand and a wicked smile on his soft lips.

Daichi grimaced. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes! _It_ came out the other day, so we are watching the ‘70s version.”

“Why.”

“That’s how you grow some resistance.”

Daichi whimpered softly but sat anyway. “I don’t want resistance.”

Suga didn’t listen. He put the TV on and made himself comfortable, getting swallowed by the couch and brushing Daichi’s arm with his. Daichi’s skin came to life, every cell, every nerve, every beat of his heart aware of every shift of Suga’s body. The way he wiggled to push his legs in front of him, how he put the bowl between them both without looking at Daichi, how he breathed deeply and fully, as if he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

It was heaven. Or hell. It was hard to decide which when his skin was inflamed, his heart was beating so fast he could barely hear the TV and _the_ smell was filling his lungs like water, drowning him.

Suga was so close, he was _too_ close, and the urge to subtly let his weight fall on him was overtaking Daichi’s will. The movie started with Daichi’s mind caught on Suga and his pale skin, Suga and his missed smell, Suga and the fact he had a boyfriend but now that boyfriend was absent so Daichi could pretend he didn’t exist.

The movie wasn’t as scary as others they’d watched, but Daichi was _bad_ with horror. After ten minutes, although his skin was overly aware of Suga right there, he was cold and sweaty. Fear tasted like gasoline when mixed with popcorn, so Daichi stopped eating altogether.

“Daichi.”

He shrieked. Gods, he shrieked so loud it actually quieted the sound of the movie for a second. With wide eyes, Daichi stared at the bright screen, the crawl of a blush, red and hot, already covering all his body.

At least the cold of fear was now overthrown by the heat of shame.

“Oh my god, Daichi,” the amusement in Suga’s voice was as sweet as it was dreading. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Liar.”

Suga’s laugh was a sweet, loud caress. Daichi tried to keep his pout on his mouth, but Suga’s cackle could break any man. When Suga rested his forehead on Daichi’s shoulder, trembling so hard popcorns were falling all over the couch, Daichi finally gave in. He turned around right in time to see tears fall from Suga’s eyes, his laugh shaping his lips in the most beautiful of sights. Daichi stared at him. Drank him, the tempting freckle under his eye, the pale, perfect skin, the bright joy in his eyes.

It struck Daichi how beautiful he was, how much he had missed this simple moments. A heavy layer of yearning covered Daichi’s stomach. Suga wasn’t laughing anymore, now just staring back at Daichi with his eyelashes wet and his tongue clearing the dryness in his lips.

Daichi couldn’t stare away, even if he wanted to.

They were so close Daichi could count the small dots of gold in Suga’s brown eyes. So close, if Daichi inhaled deeply enough, he could breathe every piece of Suga and keep it safe inside his chest.

 _I want to kiss you_ , Daichi didn’t say. _I love you_ , Daichi didn’t say.

Suga leaned forward, just a bit. Daichi mimicked him, unbidden. Suga was warm and soft and looked mild and welcoming, and Daichi wanted—

A phone rang. Loud. It was Suga’s, and Daichi knew that ringtone, because he had come to hate it with all his might. It brought reality back to the dream, too.

Suga groaned, as if pissed with his boyfriend for calling him. Daichi straightened his back and with a blank expression stared at the TV. His mind was a mess, and his heart an ashen massacre.

They didn’t finish the movie.

 

*

 

Daichi met Suga’s boyfriend four days later, on a damn Wednesday.

—Wednesdays were banned from that point on—

It was unfair and Daichi would have believed Suga to do it on purpose had he hadn’t been so surprised to see Daichi in the couch when they got in. As if this weren’t Daichi’s home as well.

“Oh. Daichi, I didn’t know you were gonna be home tonight…” Suga looked over his shoulder, where a man slightly taller than him was smiling, his handsome face an annoying sight Daichi pretended to ignore.

“I live here,” Daichi said with a flat tone. Suga tittered and Daichi bristled in answer.

“Yeah, of course you do. I thought— Anyway, Daichi, this is Oikawa. Oikawa, my flatmate, Daichi.”

Daichi resented how damnly perfect Oikawa looked, the smile on his lips soft and honest, his fair skin a tint darker than Suga’s. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.” Even his voice was pretty. Daichi frowned at the singing tone he used for that last word. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice things, I’d hope.”

“Of course! You treated Kou–chan so nicely while we were working on the project. Right, darling?” Daichi froze, a loud ringing sound crossing his skull from side to side at that _Kou-chan_ and that _darling_. Was it him, or did it sound especially sharp when Oikawa said it? Daichi’s smile widened, but inside he felt like a volcano had just exploded and was destroying every fleshed land it encountered.

“Right.” Suga’s eyes were dark and amused and there was a gleam on them Daichi didn’t usually see, and it bothered him enough to stand up and turn his smile in such a fake show his facial muscles hurt. “You okay?”

Suga sounded shy and mocking and Daichi would never understand how he made it work, and why the heck it made his dumb heart drum a happy song.

“Fine. Yeah. I’m just—” he pointed to his room, and then the entrance door, and he stood there trying to decide if suffering Kuroo’s complaints would be worse than staying here and seeing them all lovey-dovey. “I’ll go… to Kuroo’s. Yeah, so you guys can have some privacy and all that.”

“Oh, Dai–chan, please don’t,” Oikawa’s singing voice was annoying and it was drilling a hole on Daichi’s reasoning. “I wouldn’t want to kick you out of your house. Right, darling?”

Suga snorted at Oikawa when he heard that last part, but hide it behind a cough that had Daichi watching him with wary and worry.

“Sure, sure. I mean, of course, Daichi, please don’t leave on our account. This is your house. We could all watch a movie or something.”

“I think not,” Daichi said before he could hold his tongue. Suga’s gaze widened, a sparkle of recognition on those beautiful eyes of his. Daichi wanted to kiss him more than ever, but the need to kick him was as strong, so he did nothing. “Kuroo’s getting used to having me anyway. So, see you later, I guess. Bye.”

Daichi was a coward but he didn’t care. It was too painful, anyway. The drum of his heart wasn’t happy any longer; it sounded like the march of horses, running towards their early deaths.

 

*

 

It was later than Daichi expected when he knocked on Kuroo’s door. He might have been leaning to the side, but the amount of alcohol he had drank kept him from understanding his body’s movements properly. He knocked again with his forehead and his hand, and when seconds ticked and not even a sound came from inside the apartment, Daichi whined softly.

He almost fell face flat when the door opened with a soft click. Kuroo caught him against his chest, —his naked chest—, the mess of his sleep hair matching his black boxers.

“‘Rry.”

“What the heck, man. It’s three in the morning.”

“I know,” Daichi took a hold of Kuroo’s shoulders, trying to straighten himself, but his legs wiggled. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“If you throw up on my floor—”

Daichi didn’t throw up on the floor, but he made a pretty mess on Kuroo’s bathroom. The thought he’d have to invite Kuroo to at least a hundred dinners crossed Daichi’s clouded mind, and with his forehead against the toilet, he looked up where Kuroo was leaning on the door frame.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, more coherently this time. “I’m gonna pay you back.”

“Dude, you don’t have to pay me anything. But it’ll be nice if you got your shit together. You can’t keep coming back here every time Suga brings his boyfriend home.”

“They went straight to the bedroom today,” Daichi mustered, a heavy stone on his back making of his words a sad tangle of emotions. “I couldn’t— I think I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah, that’s not something new.” Kuroo sighed deeply, his eyes scanning Daichi on his bathroom floor, tears at the corners of his red eyes, the rictus of his mouth broken and lonely and one step from shattering completely. “Daichi, my friend, you have to make a decision. And you have to make it soon. Look at you.”

Daichi whines. “I know. I know. I just— that stupid Oikawa.”

Kuroo froze mid-step when he heard the cutting of his tongue. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait a second. Oikawa. Oikawa is Suga’s boyfriend.”

“Yes.” Daichi squinted. “Wait, you know Oikawa?”

“Tall? Handsome? He has this vibe he could kill you if you actually piss him off?”

“Uhuh,” Daichi nodded absently. “Yeah.”

“Oh boy.” Kuro squated on Daichi’s side, his smirk as big as it was scary. “Daichi, you owe me your life.”

 

*

 

Daichi’s head was about to explode. There was a constant drum happening on his temples, getting louder and harder and more painful with each passing hit. He grunted loudly, and even that sound hurt.

“I’m dying.”

“Not yet,” Kuroo answered from his side. Daichi didn’t bother opening his eyes, the warmth of Kuroo’s body a nice blanket for his awful state. “It’s just your hangover.”

“Will I die from it?” Kuroo snorted. “What’s that annoying sound?”

“The door,” Kuroo answered unconcerned, as if this weren’t his apartment nor his business. “Suga, I’d assume.”

“Why would Suga be here?” Daichi growled, trying to turn around, but his body felt heavy and numb. Daichi couldn’t be sure if he was moving when he finally opened his eyelids half way, watching Kuroo read some papers, the glasses such a weird sight it broke Daichi’s hangover for a brief second. “I think I’m dying for real.”

“I texted Iwaizumi yesterday and told him you and I had sex.”

A long second of hard pounding went by, and Daichi couldn’t point out if the hits he was hearing were inside his head or Suga was really on the door of the apartment.

“Should I have understood anything of that sentence?”

“Probably not.” Kuroo smirked down at him, his eyes sharper framed by the glasses. “Iwaizumi is my friend from the gym. He’s currently dating a man called Oikawa, whom I believe you’re pretty acquainted with.” Daichi frowned, his headache getting worse with each of Kuroo’s words. “I assumed Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was playing fool, since I’ve seen them together and no one would ever believe they are nothing but madly in love with each other. Disgustingly cute, if you ask me.” Daichi made a noncommittal sound, totally lost with this conversation. The threads of alcohol were still hanging on his brain, and Daichi was divided between kicking Kuroo out of the bed or just let him rant it all out. “You still with me?”

Daichi huffed loudly. “Go on. I’m dying anyway.”

“So, as I expected, Iwaizumi told Oikawa I was giving you the night of your life.” The doorbell was ringing now and Daichi could swore a black hole had opened on his skull and was absorbing every bit of life he had left.

“I still fail to see how’s that making me want to die right now.”

“How impatient,” Kuroo smiled down at Daichi, the soft lift of his lips more tender than mocking. “Oikawa, as I supposed, is Suga’s friend, and he was pretending to be his boyfriend because, as Bokuto told you already, Suga’s pretty much in love with you.” Kuroo drawn his eyebrows together, deep in thought for a second. “Lets just keep that part for ourselves, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t tell Bokuto he was right. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Right about what?”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you listening? Suga’s here, trying to tear _my_ door down because he believes I’ve fucked you senseless.”

“I mean, you did in a way,” Daichi grunted softly, and Kuroo laughed hard enough to shake the bed. “Wait, what?” Daichi finally opened his eyes, and sat on the bed with the widen eyes of a deer about to be hit by a truck. “Suga’s here.” Kuroo nodded. “He thinks you and I had sex.” Another nod. “And you think he’s in love with me.”

“Dude, he’s been at the door for like ten minutes now. There’s no doubt he is in love with you.”

Daichi tripped on his way out of bed, a simple pair of boxers the only thing covering him when he rushed through Kuroo’s apartment till the still ringing door. Now that he was closer he could discern Suga’s muffled voice, the low threats he was aiming at Kuroo with sharp precision warming Daichi’s skin when he took the handle.

“Kuroo, open that door or I swear—˝

Daichi opened the door and Suga almost broke his nose with his fist.

“Oh, no, Daichi, sorry, I didn’t mean…” his voice wore off when Suga’s eyes caught Daichi’s naked body. His eyes roamed around his chest and his thighs and stayed there, on his underwear, as if the fabric had offended him beyond repair. “Oh. Well. I see.”

Daichi wondered if he really saw anything, or if he was mad and hurting. By how hard he was closing his hands in fists Daichi got a pretty good idea of which it was, but he couldn’t talk. His head was still throbbing and his mind was still a blank space unable to process the reasons Suga could have to be here, this early on a Sunday morning.

“I guess I should…” Suga pointed at his back, turning his body, hiding his expression. Daichi couldn’t talk, but he thanked himself when his arm reached forward and stopped Suga from leaving. “Daichi.” He sounded strangled.

“Wait. I can—”

“No, I get it. I should have… I mean, it was pretty obvious, wasn’t it?”

Daichi frowned when Suga turned back and faced him again, a red blush of anger lighting his cheeks. Daichi let go of his arm. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Kuroo,” Suga wiggled his eyebrows and laughed, dry and broken. It was the worst sound Daichi had ever heard. “You practically _live_ here. I should have… Well, I’m an idiot and now I’m leaving.”

“I’m not with Kuroo,” Daichi said, still trying to catch every bit of information that was flying around his head. Gods, being hangover was the worst. Suga raised his eyebrows and looked at him with intent, but Daichi was too pained to bother worrying about it. “I’m not. I came here drunk and then I threw up and of course I wasn’t going to sleep with my clothes on after that.”

Suga didn’t look convinced on the least. He hummed, arms crossed, and looked at him as if by the simple power of his gaze he could see if Daichi was telling the truth.

“Please? Come in? So we can talk with some privacy.”

“Unless Kuroo has left, we won’t have privacy.”

“I heard that!” Daichi sighed at Kuroo’s amazed voice.

Suga inhaled shakily, catching Daichi’s attention. His shoulders were bent over, his nose red and his eyes hazy. There were shadows under his usually cheerful eyes, now cold and dull. Daichi wanted to pull him into his chest and hug the sadness out of him, but instead he just contented himself with a soft caress on Suga’s cold cheek.

Suga’s intake was harsh and sudden and his eyes lift to lock with Daichi’s, a world of pleas Daichi had never seen before swimming in his eyes.

“Please.”

Suga nodded and stepped forward.

 

*

 

Kuroo gave them some privacy. Which translated in him closing the door of the bathroom and turning on his speakers, loud enough for the lady on the corner’s shop to hear his music.

It was good enough. Daichi managed to borrow some pants and a shirt, and went back to the livingroom, where Suga was pacing around.

“Suga.”

“It’s my fault,” Suga blurted out. He couldn’t look up to Daichi, but his feet stopped moving. “I brought Oikawa and I thought I was being so smart but I wasn’t.”

“I know you believe that makes sense to me,” Daichi said slowly. “But it doesn’t. If you could explain…?”

Suga blinked up at him, the soft light of the morning painting his cheeks in oranges and golds, turning him into a statue of a god, beautiful and nostalgic and breathtaking. Daichi drank from him as he hadn’t allowed himself to do since Oikawa stepped in their apartment, and it hit him with a bull’s strength, how much he’d missed him.

“Oikawa’s my fake boyfriend,” Suga admitted with a plain voice. “I asked him to play the part because I thought—” he choked on his own thoughts, and a blush rose on his already painted cheeks. “I thought you’d get jealous,” he whispered, almost mouthed. Daichi’s brain wasn’t working properly, for he took three seconds too long to understand the meaning of his words.

“What.” Daichi gaped at him. “What do you mean…”

“Come on, Daichi,” Suga snorted. “It was pretty obvious.”

“What.”

Daichi felt like a parrot, unable to say anything beyond that dumb word.

“That I’m in love with you.” Suga watched him freeze. Even his lungs stopped. Daichi couldn’t move when those words crossed his skin and filled him till he couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, Daichi, don’t tell me. You didn’t know?”

“Of course not! You never said anything!”

“If I left more clues you would have drowned on them.”

“What?” Daichi really ought to stop saying that before its meaning got lost forever. “Suga—” a sudden laugh broke from Daichi’s chest, bubbles of fire and water filling him as if he were a bottle of champagne about to burst. “Suga, I’m not especially sharp for these things.”

Suga rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

Silence fell. It was almost a physical thing, not heavy or awkward, but filled with possibilities and expectations. They were still some meters apart, Suga’s hands tangled, Daichi’s hands at his hips. The moment lingered. Tension was growing and growing, the hint of a step, the shadow of a smile.

Their eyes never teared from each other, and by the time the moment had grow so big it was embracing them like a blanket, they were both smiling like idiots.

“You’re in love with me,” Daichi beamed.

Suga shook his head, but his lips were wearing the sweetest of smiles. “Yeah.”

“And you fake dated your friend to make me jealous.”

“As I said.”

“And I was jealous.” Suga inhaled deeply, probably filling his lungs with that truth, with Daichi’s laugh, with the moment and the pretty colors of the sun, lighting them up. “I was so jealous I couldn’t even think. Kuroo and Bokuto have been one second from murdering me. Several times.”

Suga chuckled, his hand playing with his lower lip now. It was shy and yet tempting, the unmistaken gleam of mischief in his eyes making of Daichi’s heart a stuttering mess. His glare said, _how long are you gonna wait to kiss me?_

“I’ve been in love with you almost since we moved together,” Daichi confessed instead. His lips were drawn into a thin line, the weight of his emotions finally being freed from their cage a relief, and a curse. There was no coming back from this. Change, as dreaded as it felt, was happening, and it was as light as it was weird. It was like walking over broken shells, but instead of cutting him, the sharp edges were building him, reshaping him. “I didn’t— I was so scared of losing, I never dared saying anything. You know, the nights together, the trust, the fact you were always there. You were my… You were…”

Suga stepped closer, a ghostly movement Daichi saw and Daichi drank with his lower lip caught between his teeth. “I was…?”

“Suga.” Daichi exhaled his name, a plea, a wish, a dream finally at his hand’s reach. Suga was close enough now for Daichi to feel the way his chest moved, his heavy breathing matching Daichi’s.

“What was I, Daichi.” The soft touch of Suga’s finger on his jaw made Daichi close his eyes. The small spot of contact felt like a supernova, a blown star growing and growing, electrifying every cell in Daichi’s body. He was burning up. “Come on,” the whisper caressed his lips, “we’ve come this far.”

Daichi’s eyes cracked open. Suga was everything he could gaze at and, unthinkingly, he mustered, “Home. You’ve been home all along.”

The kiss happened like the best things always happen, soundless and caringly, thoughtless. A soft brush of lips. They were gazing at each other because their mouths meeting with their eyes closed felt wrong and unfitting. Daichi breathed Suga, the smell of lemon, of leather, of home. Suga’s hands flatted Daichi’s sides, the warmth of his palms a brand in Daichi’s skin. It send rivers through Daichi’s system.

In answer, Daichi groaned, a stupid sound that put a blush in his cheeks and a laugh in Suga’s mouth, still glued to Daichi’s. “Home, huh,” Suga teased him, his arms circling Daichi’s neck and pushing him closer. Daichi’s hands, somehow, had find their way to Suga’s waist. Daichi wasn’t sure he could ever take them away.

Letting out a noncommittal sound against Suga’s neck, Daichi tasted his laugh through his throat. “That’s sweet.”

“Thanks,” Daichi grunted against his skin.

“Daichi.”

“What.”

Bending his back away from Daichi’s touch, Suga leaned far enough for their eyes to meet again. Although shaped with a tender smile, Suga’s lips had an edge to them, as if words he wasn’t sure of were caught in them.

“Do you want things to change?”

It was said with a heavy seriousness Daichi wasn’t prepared for. He regarded Suga with a blink, the warmth of their kiss still in his lips. Suga’s eyes had grown dark, worried. Daichi’s fingers pressed Suga’s flesh with unconscious intent.

“I want you,” Daichi answered with honesty. “I want to be with you.”

There was a long second of Kuroo’s music breaking their peace, in which Suga watched Daichi with eyes that went from unsure, to scared, to please in a beat. Daichi saw it all, the small journey of his emotions, and he was prepared when Suga threw himself at him, mouth open and arms choking.

Daichi kissed him back, pushed him up, hugged him until they were out of breath by the kiss as much as the way their arms held each other.

“Take me home, Daichi.”

Daichi smiled, and kissed that plea, and then laughed because home had just acquired a bright new meaning.

  



End file.
